


Parting Gift

by kassanovella



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (to the best of her ability), Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom!Kylo Ren, F/M, Inappropriate Use of a Prosthesis, Kylo Ren as: Captain Hook, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is a Grown-Ass Man, Loss of Virginity, Predator/Prey, Rape, Ren Captains the Sea Devil Because the Jolly Roger is Lame, Rey as: Rey Darling, Rey is 15, Rough Sex, innocence kink, kassanovella does MalRev
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/pseuds/kassanovella
Summary: Heavy footfalls swallow the metallic trill and a shadow breaks from the darkness, coasting under candlelight. Rey frowns, following its approach, a bodyless beast cornering her in her cage. It is only when it bursts from the black night that she realizes, heart sinking, where she has awoken. Despite the knot at the back of her head, she is alive.Alive--and imprisoned on the Sea Devil.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 47
Kudos: 195





	Parting Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brightrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightrey/gifts).



_Riiiiiing._

It’s the shrieking chime that first shoots her awake, eyes snapping into the dim, muggy air. Rey gasps and flails alive inside of a prison of wooden bars. Her dress, shorn at the hem, is soaked from the film of damp, briny water on the floor. Nothing but the scent of salt floods her nose.

Heavy footfalls swallow the metallic trill and a shadow breaks from the darkness, coasting under candlelight. Rey frowns, following its approach, a bodyless beast cornering her in her cage. It is only when it bursts from the black night that she realizes, heart sinking, where she has awoken. Despite the knot at the back of her head, she is alive.

Alive--and imprisoned on the _Sea Devil_. 

Big black boots stop at the edge of her cell. Even under the flicker of fire, she recognizes the ebony velvet frock coat, the sheen of brocade braiding, the glimmer of obsidian buttons. A wavy waterfall of raven hair and silver-lined leather tricorne frame the irritatingly beautiful face--elegant nose, plush, pink lips and haunting hazel irises--as the final confirmation of her nightmare. 

It is Captain Kylo Ren towering over her crumpled form inside the brig. Observing her like a shark might observe a wounded seal.

“They didn’t tell me it was _you_.” 

She always forgets how deep his voice is, how it burrows into her belly. He crouches, elbows on his knees, and she hisses, scuttling backwards. Her dress snares on one of the uprooted nails, stalling her.

“I wondered when we’d meet again.” He rotates his left hand. A steel hook gleams gold under the torch glow. “After you gave me such a thoughtful parting gift.”

“Get away from me.”

“No,” he says. “You’ll stay. Those you call _friends_ will have no choice but to seek you out.” He pauses. “We’ll be waiting for them.”

Rey scoffs. “They’re not that stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

Growling, she shifts to lunge at him, and her dress tears straight up her thigh, exposing her hip. Ren’s eyes catch it, cling to it, and she stumbles back, folding the ripped edges over to close the gap. When she finds his face, she sees he is still stuck to that spot, gaze wandering her body, noticing how even in the dingy light of the brig, her white dress is transparent over her skin. She swallows, cheeks hot with indignant terror. In her 15 years, men have only looked at her with tender protection. Ren is the first one to make her feel like meat. 

Rey clears her throat, straightens. “You won’t be able to keep me here.”

Kylo Ren’s jaw tenses and his gaze flicks to hers. “Hm.”

“I’ll--I’ll find a way off the ship,” she says. “I’ll escape.”

“Really.” He tilts his head. “You think yourself clever.”

She juts out her chin. “I _am_ clever.”

“Hm.” His stare lingers, again, and he meets her own. “We’re anchored. Nearest port is within swimming distance.” 

Ren digs into his coat pocket, produces a silver watch--the origin of her initial awakening. It looks like a toy in his large hand.

“You’ll have forty minutes. Escape the ship before the alarm, and I won’t pursue you.”

He stands, replaces the watch while he fishes into another pocket for a key, and pops the lock on her cell door. It swings open with an ominous whine. Rey glances between Captain Kylo Ren and the open path to the steps. To freedom. Frowning, she glares at him.

“What if you catch me?”

Ren huffs. Almost like he’s amused. “You’ll be on my time.” His voice moves like warm molasses through her ears. “And you’ll belong to me until the chime rings.”

Her mouth dries. Dread solidifies in her chest. “What… what do you mean?”

“Once it rings, I’ll bring you back here.”

She frowns. “No,” she says, unsure if she truly wants the answer to the question. “I mean… What will you do with me in the meantime?”

Ren is silent, his gaze drifting to her budding tits, the illusion of fabric barely concealing her nipples, the slope of her skin. A slow breath leaks from his nose, and his eyes find hers.

“You’ll see.”

“You’re lying.”

Two short strides bring him inches from her, and he drops to a crouch again. He is so close, she can spy the pepper of pretty moles on his face, smell the musk of smoke and sea in his hair. Ren’s expression is flat--he glides the cool, smooth edge of his hook over her cheek, and she stiffens, staring into his hungry eyes, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of fright.

“Little Darling,” he says. “You’re not important enough for me to deceive.”

Kylo Ren removes the watch again and twists the winding crown. Her heart jumps with each rotation, her gaze unable to leave his. Then he stops, hovers his thumb above the button, observing her. 

“I’ll give you a five second head-start.”

He clicks it.

“Go.” 

Rey bounds to her feet and runs past him, ignoring the rake of his attention over her back. The wood is wet under her soles, she nearly slips when climbing the steps, but then bursts through the brig door onto the main deck. Nighttime has consumed the sky, her only light the dozens of lanterns swaying in the ocean breeze. Heart racing, she darts into the darkness, seeking a spot to hide, to think about how she will throw herself over the edge of this ship and survive.

The mast towers in front of her, the only place she can figure to gauge her surroundings. Her vision tunnels, and she barrels toward it, calculating when to jump, where to grab, how to climb. Boots soles arrive, send tremors through her feet. The five seconds are up. 

She vaults onto the gridlock of ropes leading to the crows nest, and strange, confused voices cut through the quiet on deck. The tunnel in her sight subsides--as she ascends, she notices the host of crewmates gathering, their focus torn between her and the stalking steps behind her. Seething, she latches onto knot after knot of the ladder, pulling herself higher, fighting to find purchase in the woven footholds. She does not want to look over her shoulder. Does not want to be forced to also calculate the likelihood of her escape.

But she does anyway.

Captain Kylo Ren is casual in his approach--trained on her, taking one step, another, another--as if he’s confident in her failure. The small crowd parts for him while he meanders to the side of the ship, allowing him to reach the base of the ladder. Rey’s breath catches, she hops forward onto the gridlock, slipping on the slimy ropes. Fumbling, she squeals, leg dangling through one of the holes. Panic grips her, she whips her head toward the empty crows nest, still meters and meters away. Then toward her pursuer. He’s much closer.

Teeth grit, she heaves herself forward, straining to yank free. Ren only watches from the edge of the portside, head tilting. From his angle, she knows he’s admiring the view of her dress bunching around her thighs, of her exposed panties as she kicks herself back onto the ladder. Ashamed heat burns in her belly. 

Her trembling fingers catch a rung and she hoists herself up, climbing faster, lungs shallow and face hot. The sky is empty above her head. She raises her right leg and left hand, then her left leg and right hand, clambering in rhythm. There’s still so much more to go, but she supposes that as long as she is up here and he stays down there, she is safe. In a nervous tic, she glances behind her. 

Ren is still at the foot of the ladder, and there is a brief blink of relief. But when she meets his eyes, he reaches to his side and unsheathes a long, skinny rapier. Staring at her, he limbers his wrist, the sword slicing the air, and his men scatter back. Rey is statuesque, indecisive--to move or to stay?

There is nothing on his face but victory as he winds the blade above his head and severs the ropes like thread. 

The tension collapses and the ladder shudders and soars, a pendulum above the ship. Rey screams and twirls, hoping to swing the ropes into the mast--and smashes into it, rattled to the bone. Breathless and dizzy from the impact, she wags her head, adjusts her grip on the rungs, and the grid gives. A new mass is dragging her down. With a groaning stomach, she forces herself to look. Sword in hand, Ren is clawing up the ropes with his hook.

Her eyes widen, and she flails, searching for somewhere to escape. It’s too high to fall. The crow’s nest is now a much harder climb, but it’s still doable, and depending on what she finds up there, she might be able to take another rope ladder over the edge of the ship. From her current height, she still struggles to see the lights of the shore. But if she finds nothing at the top, she’ll be stuck, and Ren will be on her. She swallows, glimpses him--he’s nonchalant, twirling his rapier lazily while he climbs.

Terror streaks through her. The risk is too great. The only other option is the sails, still unfurled to dry. Swallowing again, she glances between Ren and the canvas. It’s hard to judge the distance with adrenaline fizzing her brain, but he is gaining on her. She imagines the watch ticking in his pocket. 

Rey holds her breath and rocks the ladder with her legs, giving herself a second of momentum before she launches from the rungs and smacks the sail. Her fingers fail to find grip, and she falls, sliding toward the deck like a stone. Growling, she digs with her nails, curls her fingers into the fabric, palms burning as she slows. In her fear, she forgets about Kylo Ren--but only briefly. The moment she stalls, the rapier cuts a slit to her left.

She shouts, flinches to dodge, but almost spins into the sword as it rips the sail open at her right. Panting, she clutches the canvas, peers over her shoulder, finding herself level with Ren’s gaze. He is obsessed, pupils swallowing his irises, lips parted with excited breath. Rey flings her leg toward him, hoping to knock him off balance, and her heel hits his thigh. Nothing happens. His eye twitches, and she sneers and spits in his face.

Like lightning, he swings, the rapier tears a line between the two holes, and Rey plummets, still clinging to the sail.

Flipped through the air, she gnarls her fists in the fabric, but it’s still too damp. It slips through her palms, flings her to the deck, and she collides with it in a wet _slap_. Echoes of approaching feet rumble through her skin. Groaning, she quakes, tries to stand.

“Leave her,” says Ren. “She’s mine.”

Her heart flutters in fear. Meters away, Ren’s boots slam the deck. Adrenaline springs her muscles to life, and she struggles to her feet, watching while he wipes her saliva from his face with the back of his hand, embers of rage in his eyes. She steels her jaw, spits again, and runs.

Rey can’t hear the hiss of fury under his storming stride. Shouldering a crewmate, she busts through a door into a higher deck, trampling through the empty halls, blood thumping in her temples. She soars by a long, vacant table--dining, food, _kitchen_ \--and doubles back, fleeing past the seating into the galley. The furnace is dead, barrels of produce and grain still open, a half-eaten pot of stew left on the cooktop. She seeks out a knife, but can’t find one. 

The door to the deck breaks open. Ren’s watch is still ticking.

Gulping, she notices a prep table and dives behind it, holding her legs to her stomach. Kylo Ren’s march is thunder, shaking the walls of the ship as he crosses through the hall. Her face burns, heart hammers; sweat sneaks down her hairline. Frizz coils from her bun and down her neck. He crosses past the entrance to the dining area and the galley. Her chest constricts with hope.

Apparently, he’s struck with the same realization as Rey. The footsteps stop and spin, growing closer, clinkling the cookware suspended from the ceiling rack. Blood drains from her face, her tongue is cotton. The reality is, she has no idea what Ren plans to do with her if she’s caught. But the vile, predatory look in his eyes is enough for her to know that she won’t like it. 

A _crash_ , the crack of wood, of a dozen stools smashing into the floor. Ren snaps something, hurls another object into the wall. Rey hears a snarl curl from his throat, feels him turn and cross into the galley. Her jaw hardens. She holds her breath.

To her chagrin, it takes only one, two, three steps before he rounds the prep table. 

Rey rolls, scrambles to escape, but Ren hooks her by the collar, lashes her back. A scream flies from her and Kylo Ren retreats, dragging her with him. Squirming again, she wedges her palms against his chest, trying to pry herself free--he grunts and adjusts his catch to her neck, icy steel pinning her against him by the nape. His other hand smothers her ass, fingers digging into her backside. 

More heat erupts in her stomach--she’s never been cradled to a man’s body like this, never felt one huge and heaving and hungry for something unknown. Her throat thickens, and she swallows. 

“Come,” he murmurs.

Hot panic shoots through her veins--from the corner of her eye, behind a pot, she spies a butcher knife. When he jerks her back, she grapples the handle and slices him across the face.

Kylo Ren howls in pain, drops her like a burning iron. Rey crumbles to the floor and the knife clatters across the wood, spinning into a corner. Seething, she leaps to her feet, sprinting from the galley, through the destroyed dining area and into the hall. Ren roars with rage, charges through the hull, a scorned serpent seeking her, hunting the scent of her fear. Her heart stutters, her head whirls. She has no idea where she is. 

Another _smash_ , like a wall being broken, and she catches a squeal in her throat. A door reveals to her right, and she flings it open and dips through it. Breathless, she eases it shut, scans the dark air--three sets of bunks line the room. A berth. Beyond the door, Ren’s furious stride quakes the floor, closer and closer. Rey grits her teeth, and dives under one of the bunks at the wall to her right, flattening herself along the baseboard.

Seconds later, the door shatters from its hinges, wailing as it crashes to the ground. Alarmed, she claps her hands over her mouth, folding her knees to her chest as Ren stomps into the berth and crosses to the opposite side of the room. There is a pause, and then a growl. 

_Crack_ \--Rey flinches, bites her lip to stop a scream. He’s snapped the bunk with his boot. Unsatisfied, he moves to the next row of beds-- _crack_ \--and wood chips spew across the floor, buffet her face. Anxiety wracks her nerves, and she trembles, trying to curl as tiny as possible. He lifts his foot from the broken bed, and moves to her side of the berth.

Shadows thump close, smother her line of vision. Rey stuffs her fingers in her mouth, stills her lungs, and Ren drives his heel straight down, splitting the slats to the floor. Slivers of wood smack her skin, the center of the bed collapsed inches from her stomach. Her teeth cut her knuckles, terror trapped in her throat.

Ren snarls again, and pierces the bunk with his sword, grinding his foot into the floor before removing both and marching out of the room. Rey remains there, waits for his steps to grow distant before she exhales, clambering from underneath the broken bed. The light from the hall spills into the room, and she creeps to the threshold, peering from side to side. She doesn’t see a hint of him--he must have headed further into the ship. 

Gulping, she tip-toes out of the berth, sneaking through the corridor, taking a direction she thinks might get her to a place she could open a window and jump free. To her left, near the stern, is a dead-end. A single door leading to the unknown. It could be her only chance. Head on a swivel, she steals toward it, peeking over her shoulder as she turns the knob and slips inside.

Windows row the far wall, starshine draping the room in silver, outlining the massive four-post bedframe and plush mattress pressed underneath the glass. An armoire and trunk are shoved into one corner, a roll-top desk in another. The hair at her nape stiffens. 

She’s in the captain’s quarters.

And maybe it’s in her head. But she swears she can hear it. 

_Tick, tick, tick..._

The door shuts behind her. Before she can move, a massive hand snatches her by the scalp, jerks her back against a solid chest. Cold metal clamps her throat.

Kylo Ren’s mouth dips to her ear. “Lost?”

Rey screams, slaps at him--but he is so much stronger, so much larger than her that he encompasses her, eats every hope of escape. Growling, she tries to jam her heel to his shins, to dig her elbow into his ribs, but it is like fist-fighting the side of a mountain. She does the only thing she can think of and goes limp, dead-weight in his hold. 

This, too, is a mistake. He lets her hit the floor.

Before she has the chance to groan, Ren wedges his boot under her stomach and kicks, tossing her across the hardwood and onto her back. He pounces, wrenching her arms with a single hand, and she tries to pull free, slamming her knee into his side, twisting in his grip. Like every other effort, it is pointless--he pins her wrists above her head. Wincing, she watches him drag his gaze over her anxious frame.

Ren is panting. Blood is still leaking from the gash in his face, droplets hitting her cheeks. And his eyes are glittering with a craving she’s only ever seen in animals. Right before they rip apart their prey.

“You don’t know how desperately I’ve wanted to get you alone.” 

She doesn’t like the way he says that. There’s a strange feeling in her abdomen. It’s like she’s meat, again. 

“Let me go.”

“I caught you, Darling.” His voice is strained. “You’re mine until the very last second.”

“You can kill me if you want,” Rey says. “My friends won’t be happy if I’m dead.” She glares at him, into the red wound over his brow. “Things will be even worse for you than they are now.”

Delight flashes in his gaze. “Kill you,” he muses. “I have no interest in that.”

“Torture me, then.”

Ren huffs. “With any luck,” he says, “you’ll enjoy it as much as I will.”

The threat whittles her bravery. _Not killing, not torture_ … that unknown warmth whirls in her belly, leaks into her bloodstream, knocks in her throat. Knocks somewhere else, too. 

And the realization hits her.

Rey knows from classmates and the Bible what sex is supposed to be. She’s heard words describing the body parts, the act, the results. She’s even had crushes on boys before, thought about kissing them.

But she’s never felt this terrifyingly primal ache that throbs like a drum between her thighs. Never had to consider what was down there, other than a place she touches for hygiene and no other reason. That same place feels hot, now--confused and alive. Ren must be brimming with that same living, electric impulse, a recognition she rejects and denies. She can’t admit to it, not aloud, not even to herself.

“No…” She wriggles in his grip, tries to wrest from underneath him, throwing her knees into him. “No, no!”

Ren grunts, drops his hips between her legs, his head falling into the nook of her neck and shoulder, hat tumbling to the floor. Something firm grinds along her thigh, and she holds back a scream, realizing what it must be. A dark, excited breath leaves him, and he rocks his hips again, sweltering her with his size, his bulge brushing over the heat at the apex of her thighs. Wincing, she bites her lip, ignoring the sweep of bizarre, unwanted bliss that he sparks there. 

His hold on her wrists tightens, another sharp exhale--he grinds, grinds again, the swollen need at his pelvis growing larger. Firmer. It drags over her heat again, over a tiny spot of perfection, and it escapes before she can stop it. She whimpers.

Exhilarated air hitches in his throat, almost like a groan, and he springs to his feet, taking her with him by the arms. Ren tosses her on the bed, shocking the oxygen out of her, and before she finds it again, he grips her neck, locks her to the mattress. A glint of silver hooks her collar and shreds her nightgown to the hem like it’s made of paper prayers. Rey gasps, squirms while he peels it to the side, revealing her blushing body to the moon. 

Ren’s eye twitches, his gaze a tide coasting over her, stealing new details of her figure for his memory every time it recedes. His hand flattens her throat, and she wheezes, under his power as he memorizes her pert breasts, her tensing, flat stomach, her hips hidden by her panties. Wetting his full lips, he ghosts the blunt edge of his hook across her flesh, observing her response.

The caress of steel pulls a whine from her chest, and she writhes, grasps his arm and tries to push him from her neck. Ren’s jaw stiffens and he twists his wrist--a harsh point gouges her side and pierces the skin. Hollering, Rey releases him, clutches the sheets instead. A shiver ripples over her. She doesn’t want to give up fighting. She wants to believe she isn’t afraid. 

But Ren isn’t fooled. 

“You’re shaking.” The hook tilts her chin up, forces her to meet his focus. “You’re _petrified_.” 

Teeth chattering, she shakes her head.

He snickers. “Good,” he says. “You should be.”

Slowly, he pries his fingers from her throat, and she gags, sucks in air. There’s an instinct to bolt, but steel is still on her ribcage, tracing under her sternum. It glides over the little hill of her breast, puckers the nipple with a revoltingly delicious chill. Her teeth dig her lower lip--Ren trails lower, over her belly button, over the mound of her covered sex, painting pearly goosebumps in the starlight. From the edge of her sight, she sees his hand fall between his legs and palm himself through his trousers.

She gulps. Even with it half-concealed by his jacket and pants, she knows it’s _big_. Knows that somehow, it’s supposed to go inside of her. Something within her tightens, and she isn’t sure why.

Kylo Ren glances over her figure again, tongue rolling in his mouth. His throat bobs, and he starts to shrug off his coat, stepping back for seconds. Within those seconds, Rey decides his arms are preoccupied, and she launches from the bed, determined to run.

It takes less than a step. His hook snares her hair, tears her bun free and flings her back onto the bed. She cries in protest, and Ren swoops like a vulture, cages her with his frame, presses his bulge between her thighs again. His gaze is hungrier than it’d been only moments ago. Yet it is not just the voracity, but the _cruelty_ excoriating her that sinks her spine to the sea. 

He smells like copper and salt. “Try it again,” Ren mutters, nose nudging her neck. “They’ll never find your body.”

Throat thickening, she nods. There’s a time-limit to her suffering. Somewhere in his jacket pocket, her salvation approaches. She can’t hear it, but she can feel it in her pulse.

_Tick, tick, tick…_

His teeth sink into her throat. Rey screams, jerks underneath him, trapped by his size--he drags his tongue along the mark and moves, digs in again, pulling. Pain needles through her, guttering into a repulsive tingle that she doesn’t fully disregard. He groans, laving at her clavicle, steel tangled in her hair; his other hand explores, smooths down her side and over her hip, squeezing the developing flesh. Humming, he litters a flurry of kisses over her chest, smearing blood in his wake, mouth marking fat, red welts on her unspoiled skin. 

Rey’s eyelids flutter, she stares into the ceiling, trying to control her breath. His hips snap into her, drive the hardness between his legs against her tender thigh, and she shudders. She bitterly notes the physical reactions she’s having to his touch, the unwanted pang growing in her belly. Fear threatens to spill down her cheeks every time she’s reminded how much he’s enjoying this, and how foreign it is to her. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers huskily. He gropes her like he’s testing her reality, like she’s a dream he’s had for years. “So small, so soft…”

He passes his lips over her tits, takes a puckering nipple in his mouth--and the whisper of pleasure cracks a sob in her throat. Hot, humiliated tears sear her face, and she trembles, biting her lip so hard she’s afraid she’ll taste blood. Ren pauses, meets her gaze, assessing her. 

“Please,” she says, finally. She doesn’t want this to be her first time. “I’ve never… Please.”

Unfortunately for her, he smirks. 

Shifting above her, his palm plants next to her head, and he frees his hook from her hair. With the kindness of a viper, he draws a shallow scratch from her throat, between her tits, across her hip bone, stopping at her underwear. 

Rey grumbles. “Don’t.”

“Naive little creature.” 

He curls the metal claw under the hem, tugs longingly at the fabric, revealing hints of her flushing folds to his eyes. She whimpers, shakes her head, but he only stares, only stops a moan in his throat. The tent in his trousers moves. 

“Such a pretty cunt,” he says. “And all mine.”

She’s never heard that word used so lewdly, so boldly. More tears well. 

Kylo Ren takes a long inhale through his nose, turns his wrist and pokes a hole through her panties; rivers heat her cheeks, and he tears them free. Every muscle tenses--she’s nude now, her most intimate parts on display. She shuts her eyes, crosses her legs to try and hide, but he knocks them open with his knee. Her lungs cycle through breath after breath, in between, she hears an impatient rustle of fabric. Fear forces her to look just in time to see Ren pulling his erection free.

Something sharp and awful slices her nerves. No breath comes. A deep, half-hibernated longing throbs. What’s in his fist is thick and heavy and hard. It’s eager to be inside of her. 

He slides his hand up the shaft, teases his thumb over the head, mouth parting while he thrusts over his own fingers. And she can’t stop watching.

Nausea grips her stomach, vomit bubbles in her esophagus. The problem is, Rey considers Captain Kylo Ren beautiful as frequently as she considers him monstrous. For all of his wickedness, she can’t deny how he looks bathed in opal light--how his skin leans luminous, how his hair shimmers in a cascade to his shoulders. And she can’t deny all the atrocities she’s seen at the direction of the very hand that strokes himself to her naked body.

She thinks she might hurl. She doesn’t want this. But her instincts sparkle with adolescent arousal regardless. 

Ren’s attention switches from between her legs to her face. She nervously wets her lips. He squeezes himself--the only word that fits is his cock--and swallows. Steel wraps the back of her neck and yanks her forward, and she yelps, slamming to her knees on the floor in front of him. 

His cock is inches from her face, leaking fluid, its little veins pulsing under his touch. Panting, he tugs her forward again, but she resists, whimpering, pressing her palms on his thighs. 

“Go on.” He sounds annoyed.

Rey turns her cheek, lip quivering. “I-I don’t know what you want.” The point pinches her neck, and she flinches.

“I want,” he replies, “for you to open your mouth so I can be the first to fuck your little throat.”

Her insides tighten and collapse, her heart pounds. Whining, she wants to pull away, but is tamed by the claw millimeters from puncturing her jugular. Ren inches forward, glazing her lips with the warm, silky tip of his cock. She almost heaves and gazes up at him, mouth sealed, fingers scraping his legs--another pinch to her neck, she squeals, and he stuffs himself past her teeth. 

A raspy moan rumbles from him, and Ren snatches the back of her scalp, holding her head still as he slides in by centimeters. His jaw is dropped, his cheeks are reddening, and he rocks with short, merciful movements, watching the shine of her tears mix with the drool that’s dribbling down her chin. Rey groans, already weary, clinging to his hips to try and steady herself, to keep herself awake. She’s never heard of this before, never thought she’d have to taste him and take him in her mouth--he is huge and hard, tangy on her tongue.

“That’s it,” he says. “Fuck…”

He tenses, adjusts his hold on her hair, and gives a rough, sharp snap of his hips, driving his cock to the back of her throat. Rey gags, struggling in his grip, but mercy is dead. His chest rises with excitement, and he sets a rhythm, widening her lips around his shaft. The strain makes her heave, she fights for air through her nose, her arms flail to try and shove him off, but his strength strangles her. 

“Good.” The word is pushed between his ragged breath. “Good--good girl. You like sucking cock.”

She tries to shake her head but finds it impossible, and wails in objection instead.

“Mm. You do. You’re making a mess of yourself.”

Another pained groan is muffled by the cock fucking her face. She is a mess, her sight is bleary and her face is tight with drying blood and tears and spit is soaking her jaw and coating her tits. Every thrust pushes a hiccuped noise from her chest, her lips and cheeks are buzzing with heat. He grunts, chokes her with deep thrust, and her eyes roll to the back of head, her nails grating his exposed groin. Ren seethes, shivers--and jerks out of her throat. 

Rey is given no time to inhale before he hoists her to her feet and throws her back onto the bed. She bounces, bewildered, and Ren is on her, sticky cock sliding over her thigh. The room is a whirlwind, her mind is muddled with the alarms of terror and reluctant signals of desire. Shock has settled over her, stopping her tears, sending fissures through her limbs. 

No matter how many steady breaths she takes, she can’t stop shaking. It feels like time is frozen.

_Tick, tick, tick..._

Kylo Ren presses his lips to her neck, kneading her tits under his palm. She stiffens, seizes the urge to mewl, but he notices anyway, smirking while he moves lower, nipping little marks into her collarbone. Rey wants to move, to push him off, but her muscles won’t respond. She supposes that it doesn’t matter. His thumb plays with her nipple until it peaks.

It doesn’t feel awful. She hates that. 

“You’re lucky, Darling.” He’s captivated by the sight of her small breast in his big hand. “You don’t deserve to feel good. After what you’ve done to me.” A point pokes her throat. “But I don’t begrudge ruthlessness.” Pressure. Threatening to make her bleed. 

Rey winces. “Then why are you doing this?”

“You took something of mine,” he says. “I’m taking what I want from you.” Briefly, she wonders if what he’s taking is her virginity or her dignity or both--then he brushes his lips over her nipple, and she fails to halt a shivering moan. “You like this. You want more.”

“No,” she insists.

Ren exhales--breath warms her skin, earns a wave of gooseflesh. A pleased hum echoes from his chest. He’s a crocodile toying with its meal. 

Without a word, he sucks the pink bud into his mouth, twirls his tongue around it, and she gasps, bucking from the bed. He grabs her hip, pins her to the mattress, groaning while he flicks her nipple, and she pants, whimpers, seizes his head to force him off. He _shudders_ , and bites a deep, painful ring into her breast. Rey shrieks in pain, kicks him again, but he splits her legs with his pelvis and sinks between them, his elbows splaying them open.

“Time’s still left,” he says. “Give in.”

Ribcage heaving, she growls, claws at his scalp, but this only seems to drive him wilder--he attacks the sensitive tissue of her inner thigh, tugging bruises to life with his teeth. Ren kisses closer to her cunt, and she winds her fingers in his hair, trying to rein him in a different direction. But his mouth meets her outer folds, his tongue slides up her slit, and she crumbles into a sob. 

Shamefully, she isn’t sure why she sobs at all. Her sex is swollen and clamoring for something she can’t name and doesn’t know, the very center of her cunt is thumping and leaking. And Ren’s mouth--so soft and pretty--promises some form of reprieve from the very physical need. She’s disgusted at thinking that it feels good, at the part of her that wants more. 

He presses a gentle kiss to her cunt and she yips, tries to close her legs in embarrassment. Sharp steel punishes her for trying. Ren snickers, slips his tongue through her folds, and he glances over that tiny spot of perfection again. Against her most intelligent and willful desires, she moans. 

“There we go,” he purrs. “Break for me.”

Wet warmth engulfs her cunt, and Rey trembles, gripping thick handfuls of his hair while he nuzzles his nose against her. It’s a horrific delight, relief like she’s never known courses through her, she finds another moan escaping her, and another. The whole while, Ren licks and suckles at _whatever_ it is between her legs, perfection or heaven or nirvana, his bedroom ringing with the needy smacks of his lips, his satiated groans, her rising cries of loathsome bliss. 

“I hate you, Ren,” she says, closing her eyes to her hypocrisy. “I, I… h- _hate_ \--”

He pulls away, and she howls in disappointment. Humiliation scorches her face.

“Really,” he says, and grazes a finger over the heartbeat of her heat. “You’re dripping for me.”

Her chin quakes. “That doesn’t… mean anything,” she replies, not really knowing what he’s referring to, anyway.

“It means,” he says, “you want me inside of you.” He nudges a finger in by only millimeters and she flinches. It _hurts_. “Hm. Innocent little slut.” A triumphant gaze meets hers. “You’ve waited long enough.”

Kylo Ren rises to his knees and climbs over her, dwarfing her in his shadow. Face blank, he lowers onto his forearms, shifting his legs between her thighs until the head of his cock is prodding her cunt. Stifled hysteria wracks her. There is no point in protesting--not when time is still passing--so she submits to truth. 

She’s about to have sex. She’s about to lose her virginity to a man twice her age. She’ll never be able to tell anybody. 

His cock pushes her folds to the side, waits at her core. Every time it throbs, her cunt throbs, too. 

She wonders what her parents would think. And then Ren rolls his hips and rips her like a rapier. 

Rey screeches, split with pain, only to be silenced by his hook clasping her throat. He is panting, not even an inch inside and already crazed, already desperate to fill her entire being with his seed. Holding his breath, he eases out, rocks back in, sucking in air through his teeth as her slick, impossibly tight heat sheathes his length. 

“Fuck,” he says. “Filthy little bitch.” 

His thrusts sink deeper and deeper, siphoning thought and logic and even desire. All Rey feels is agony daggering to her belly and to her toes, the suffocating pressure on her neck. But if it’s torment for her, then it is rapture for him--his hair is falling into his face, his lids flitting with utter delirium. His stare refuses to leave the sight of her walls swallowing his shaft. Another stroke, and she whines, squirms. Ren’s eye twitches. He snarls and snaps his hips, rending her apart.

Her sight goes white, a shrill ring drowns her ears. The first things she feels are the tracks of tears staining her skin, the shreds of oxygen in her lungs. The next is the force of the body above her--the torturous, euphoric pumping of Ren’s cock inside her cunt. 

Rey comes to focus on his face, red with lust as he brutally fucks her open. She is in a cyclone of confusion, awash with the warring sensations of pleasure and pain. The deeper, the harder he drives, the worse and better it feels; her cunt _loves_ being stretched, her mind _hates_ that he’s the one doing it. She tries to catch her breath, grips the sheets. She doesn’t know why it has to feel so good.

Maybe she likes having sex. Maybe she _is_ a slut.

An embarrassed moan leaves her, and Ren snickers, removes the claw from her neck, crooks it in her mouth. He must know he’s conquered her. The fact that she wants to suck at the tip of steel proves it.

“You’re mine,” he hisses. “When you leave, you’ll remember this.” His pace quickens, jostles her on the bed, and she quails into metal. “You’ll remember everything I took from you.” He keeps looking at her jiggling breasts. “There’s a part of you that will always belong to me.”

Rey whinges, shakes her head, even though she knows he’s right. Ren pulls out of her, her cunt aching with emptiness before he flips her over onto her stomach. Heaving with urgency, he hooks her throat, whips her back to his chest, and angles himself at her core.

“Tell me what it’s like to cum, Darling,” he says.

She didn’t even know girls were able. “I--I don’t know…”

A satisfied growl leaves him. “Good.”

Ren slams into her, groaning into her ear as she takes him to the hilt, and she spasms in his hold. He strokes out, back in, his cock so big that she swears she can feel him through her belly. It’s terrible and incredible being so full, she thinks there couldn’t be anything more. And then his arm snakes around her side, and his hand wiggles between her thighs. His fingers circle that little nub, and she’s possessed with ecstasy.

Spasms become convulsions, and Rey groans--a guttural, feral sound, staccatoed by the force of his hips smacking her ass. Flesh hits flesh, and he rubs the spot faster, both of them swept in an intangible tsunami. He rams into her, squeezes her neck, folding her to his body while he works her nub, and Rey is enthralled, bewitched by the incomprehensible. Kylo Ren is fucking her, choking her, hauling her toward it. 

Had she any rationality left, she’d resent that she loves it more than she hates it. But in this moment, she doesn’t hate it at all.

“You’re clenching,” he says. “You’re going to cum for me. And I’m going to cum inside of you.”

The back of her brain tells her that’s not a good idea. “Wait,” she says, “don’t--”

“ _No_.” He envelops her, nips her neck. “I want that virgin pussy to _drip_ with my cum.”

Ren pounds her cunt, snarling at her skin, and she cries out, his fingers moving faster. She can tell something is burgeoning inside of her, like a bright red vessel ready to rupture--the horizon of it scares her, and she whines, shakes, hurtling at his whim toward the unknown. His cock fucks deep, hard, and the vessel glows with heat, and she can’t find her breath, can’t think, can’t feel anything but--

“Cum,” he orders at her ear. “Make me fill you up.”

Without further instruction, Rey shatters with her very first orgasm. Everything inside of her contracts and explodes, and she twitches from the gush of euphoria, sight white again. Ren’s pace stutters, he crushes her in his arms, groaning like a sated animal. His hips connect with long, slow thrusts, and she can feel it distantly, then papably--the pulsing of his cock inside of her, pouring out his seed. She’s devastated with every throb.

There is a moment of silence as they both return and find something akin to normalcy. Rey coughs, wheezes from the strain on her throat.

“Mm.” He loosens the hook from her neck and slips out of her, her cunt twinging with exhaustion, then lets her flop to the bed. “Good girl.”

Lying there, his cum seeping onto her thighs, her mind still floats somewhere in the stars. Her body feels like a used rag, loose and spent. More than anything in her being, she hates Kylo Ren. Hates him for doing this to her. Hates him for making her enjoy it.

She can’t hear the faraway ticking. With effort, she rolls onto her side. Ren has already left the bed and is slipping his arms through his coat.

“The chime,” she croaks.

“Hm.”

“The _watch_.”

Ren snorts. “It stopped.”

She balks, gathers enough strength to sit. “ _What_?”

He meets her eyes, devious. “You didn’t notice,” he says. “Perhaps you were distracted.”

Rey blinks. Had she been enjoying it that much? Or was this his goal the whole time? There was simply no way. Maybe he never even set it. Or maybe it malfunctioned.

“You’re lying,” she says. “It must have broken.”

Kylo Ren pauses, plucks the watch from his pocket and tosses it to her, chain and all. It plops on the sheets, and Rey frowns, gazes at him and the device. Brow furrowed, she picks it up. It’s still ticking away. But that doesn’t mean the alarm still works.

Staring at him, she places her thumb on the button. Presses it.

_Riiiiiing._

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly: thank you so much to Bastillia for betaing.
> 
> Written as a belated, but a heavily-wrought birthday gift for my soulmate, best friend, and Force-bondmate: brightrey. 
> 
> I don't think there are truly enough words that can explain how much I love you and how much you mean to me, but I hope this fic illustrates it even a little bit! You are the best thing in my life--and you know it because I wrote REYLO for you, dammit.
> 
> If anyone else is a degenerate and read and enjoyed this, thank you. I love all of you to bits!


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